


Pacific Rim Drabbles

by vitious



Series: Tumblr Drabble Collection [5]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 03:39:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2373146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vitious/pseuds/vitious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles posted on tumblr of varying ratings / prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stacker/Herc - Posession

The entire situation was fucked.  He acted as if things were normal, continued to live each day as if everything was alright, as if there was nothing horrifically wrong.  It was only when he was alone in his bunk, left to his own thoughts, that his stomach twisted  and threatened to expel the food he’d had to force down a few hours prior.  It was only when he was alone that Herc waited in the dark for the door to open, for light to spill across his floor, and for the real nightmares to begin.

 

It was Stacker, but it wasn’t.  The sound of the Marshall’s dress shoes, the way his feet fell on the metal floor, that was familiar, that was all him.  So was the way he stood, the way his jaw was set, and the way he held his hands in front of him, casually formal and all business.  However the look in Stacker Pentecost’s eyes wasn’t him at all, wasn’t warm in the ways that Herc remembered from when things were good between them.  No, in those eyes was a harsh maliciousness that had never been on Stacker’s face when it had actually been Stacker.

 

When the door to his bunk closed Herc couldn’t help but flinch a little as he sat up; this was a nightly ritual these days, but he’d hoped that maybe the Marshall would have been too busy preparing for their assault on the breach.  A powerful hand fisted in Herc’s short hair, jerking his head back roughly, but the ranger refused to wince, staring defiantly at the…  Thing that occupied the body of the man he loved and trusted.  This resulted in a slow curl of those familiar lips, the look a twisted mockery of Stacker’s confident smirk, too wide and showing too many teeth.

 

"I can’t disagree with his taste." the creature practically purred, Stackers voice sounding vile, the inflections in all the wrong places.

 

"Fuck off." Herc spat.  "I’ll get ‘im back."

 

"Not before the attack on the breach you won’t."

 

Herc schooled his expression, making sure the pain and hopelessness he felt didn’t show.  He didn’t go through years of military training to let his emotions slip, even in the situation he’d found himself in.  Deep down he knew that it was hopeless, that he’d most likely die before freeing Stacker of the thing currently in possession of his body, but he couldn’t help but cling onto foolish, painful hope. 

 

"We’ll see about that, now won’t we?" Herc muttered, letting his lips quirk in a self-confident smirk.

 

"Keep fighting, Hansen, it just makes it all the more entertaining." the creature mused, leaning in.

 

"Keep fighting, Stacks." Herc breathed, knowing that somewhere, buried deep, Stacker would hear the hidden ‘I love you’; he always did.


	2. Stacker/Herc - Hauntings

"Can’t believe ‘m doing this." Hercules Hansen muttered, his voice loud in the silence of of the hotel he was staying in.

 

When the power had gone out it had been Angela that had suggested that he go look for when of the staff to see what was going on.  Thus, equipped with the emergency flashlight he’d found in the bedside table of their room, he trudged down dark, empty hallways, his mind concocting all sorts of creative reasons as to why he hadn’t encountered anybody besides himself on the entire floor; he’d already gone down two hallways and, sure, it was the middle of the night, but somebody else had to have noticed the power going out, right?

 

Just as he thought that there was the sound of footsteps and the rustle of cloth behind him, something which made him turn, pointing his flashlight at the floor so as not to blind whoever was there.  He needn’t have bothered, considering that when he turned he was simply met with more empty, silent hallway, something that made him frown.  Shaking his head, Herc turned and headed for the stairwell, aiming to head for the main floor in hopes of locating an actual member of staff.

 

When he entered the stairwell, Herc had expected to hear voices, to hear movement as people made their way downstairs to grumble about the lack of power.  He was met with eerie silence, his footsteps echoing off the concrete walls as he slowly descended, a sense of unease making each step a little slower, a little more cautious.  It was after the third flight of stairs that he heard footsteps, coming from above, and he turned immediately, too on edge to be patient enough to wait for whoever it was to reveal themselves.

 

"Oi!"  Herc called, brows knitted. "Anybody there?"

 

He was met with silence, something which made his pulse quicken a little despite himself.  Letting out a soft scoff and muttering about kids pulling stupid, dangerous pranks in dark stairwells, Herc slowly turned and began to descend again.  It was only a few minutes later that the footsteps returned but, this time, he felt as if he recognized the sound, not from the hotel, from sometime before he, Chuck, and Angela had decided to take their long-awaited vacation.

 

"This isn’t funny.  Chuck, if that’s you, I’m gonna whoop your little arse." Herc muttered, glancing over his shoulder suspiciously before snorting.

 

When he looked back to the stairs before him, he nearly dropped his flashlight because suddenly there was a man standing there, hands folded behind his back, looking oddly… Fond.  Herc swore colorfully, giving the man a mildly disgruntled look even as his shoulders slumped a little in relief.  It was good that there was someone else in the bloody hotel that seemed to give a shit about the fact that there was no electricity.

 

"Finally someone else in this damn place." Herc muttered, holding out his hand. "Name’s—"

 

"Herc.  Hansen." the man finished, looking amused. "It’s been some time."

 

"What?" Herc frowned, brows furrowed as he looked the man over.  He looked military, definitely, but he hadn’t ever seen him before… Had he?"

 

"You’re chasing ghosts, Herc."

 

"You’re not making a lick of bloody sense." Herc muttered, scowling at the man. "Look, I’m just trying to find a member of staff—"

 

"Stubborn Aussie bastard." the man mused, his teeth flashing, seeming bright against his dark skin. "You need to live, Herc.  Stop dragging yourself to this place."

 

For some reason, Herc couldn’t bring himself to reply, simply staring at the strange man before him with an odd sense of deja vu.  He opened his mouth to speak but he couldn’t figure out what to say, couldn’t find his previous annoyance.  Everything suddenly felt strange, alien, and he was about to ask where he had seen this man and how he knew him when suddenly the stairwell flooded with light. 

Hercules Hansen woke with a ragged, sucked in breath, his eyes snapping open as he sat up in bed, morning sun trickling through the blinds of his apartment.  He stared for a long moment down at his comforter, the fragments of the dream making him smile bitterly.  Max was a lump of warmth on the foot of his bed, a fact that made his chest ache and his eyes burn.  It had been the same dream for so many months, with him and Chuck and Angela, living their lives, being a family, but now…

 

"Stacker." he breathed, scrubbing away the tears that had streaked down his cheeks. "You British bastard." 

 

Stacker was always there to pull his ass out of the fire, saving him from the ghosts of what could have been.


	3. Chuck / Raleigh - Angela's Ghost

Six months after the Breach had been sealed, Chuck was still having nightmares.  Raleigh was accustomed to demons, to reliving Yancy’s death over and over every time he closed his eyes, but it seemed that the Aussie’s brush with death had shaken him more than he’d admit.  There were several nights where it took hours to get Chuck back to sleep after his dreams had woken them both up, leaving their sleep schedules tumultuous and what sleep they did get was restless.

One night, for the first time in months, Raleigh was the one jarred awake by echoes of fear, pain, and the image of Yancy being pulled from Gypsy.  He sat up, scrubbing his face with one hand as he calmed his breathing, raking his fingers back through his tousled hair.  He turned his head, checking the time from the digital clock on the night stand, and was surprised to see that it was, oddly, almost morning.  Normally either his or Chuck’s dreams woke them in the middle of the night, but it seemed that they actually managed to get a decent amount of rest.

Turning his head, Raleigh checked to make sure he hadn’t woken Chuck, only to jolt in surprise, his eyes going wide.  He thought he saw the shadowy image of a woman, misty and ethereal, on the edge of the bed, but quickly shook his head, scrubbing his face again; obviously he wasn’t fully awake still.  Shaking his head, Raleigh looked back to the man next to him, but his blood went cold when he noticed that the misty, shadowed figure was still here, in the same place, and even Raleigh had to admit to himself that it couldn’t have been an afterimage.

For a few long moments, Raleigh simply stared, uncertain was to what to do as his mind tried to process what he was seeing.  Finally he reached out to blindly grip Chuck’s shoulder, gently shaking him and quietly hissing his name, attempting to get him to wake up.  Part of him wondered why he was worried about being quiet in their own house in the middle of the night; it wasn’t as if he could spook… Whatever he was seeing anyways.

Chuck stirred, drawing Raleigh’s attention as the Aussie swore, his voice rough with sleep, and swatted at his hand. “Fuck off, Raleigh…”

"Chuck, there’s—" he paused, suddenly, staring at where the figure had been; it was gone.  Of course it was. "…Never mind."

Chuck rolled over, face pinched in annoyance as he scrubbed at his eyes. “What?”

"I… Sorry, I thought I saw something." Raleigh muttered, heat rising in his cheeks, something which made him grateful for the darkness.

"Dammit." Chuck muttered, gently shoving at Raleigh’s shoulder. "Was having a good dream."

"Sorry."

"Was dreaming about my mum." Chuck breathed, eyes drooping already.  "Haven’t had one like that for a while."

Raleigh blinked before smiling a little, fondly, and hesitantly reaching out to run his fingers through Chuck’s hair. “Go back to sleep.”

Chuck snorted, even as his eyes fluttered shut. “Don’t boss me around, Old man.”

Raleigh grinned to himself, looking back to the spot that the strange figure had occupied before.  His smile widened a little as he laid back down, his eyes fluttering shut.  Usually he didn’t believe in anything spiritual, in anything strange or supernatural, but he hoped that maybe there would be quite a few undisturbed, restful nights in their future.


	4. Stacker/Herc - Madness

Herc had good days and he had horrible days, never anything in between.  He was either non-responsive or screaming and thrashing, so manic that he had to be sedated to keep from hurting himself.  It had been that way now for months, and each time Stacker Pentecost visited the asylum it hurt worse.

Some days when he visited, Herc recognized him.  When he did, his eyes welled with tears and he screamed about illusions and how it couldn’t be Stacker, Stacker was dead.  No matter what Stacker said to Herc on those days, he continued to scream denials, screamed for them to stop toying with him.  Sometimes Stacker wondered if coming to visit Herc was doing more harm than good.

Other days Herc muttered names that nobody recognized and asked after a son that he never had.  When any of them asked about about any of the names, Herc never answered, simply shaking his head solemnly.  Then were the days in which he spoke of monsters and terror, of portals in the ocean and giant machines protecting humanity.  Those were really the days that made Stacker lose hope, the days that made him wonder if he’d ever get the man he loved back.

However that day, the first day he’d been able to make himself come and visit in a few weeks, Herc was different.  There was a clarity in those blue eyes, a weary exhaustion that immediately made Stacker frown as he sat down.  Herc actually looked at him, really saw him, for the first time in months, since the madness had first settled in.  They sat in silence for a few moments, staring at one another, before, surprisingly, Herc parted his lips and spoke. 

"How’s Max been?" Herc questioned, offering a tired smile.

Stacker’s shoulders sagged a little in relief; maybe Herc was finally getting better. “He misses you.”

"Can I see him sometime?" Herc questioned, looking so weary and pained that it made Stacker’s chest ache.

"Sure.  I’ll bring him." Stacker agreed, hesitantly reaching across the table to gently grip the Australian’s hand.

"I’m almost out, Stacks.  My head’s hell, but I’m fixin it."

"I’ll wait for you."

"I know… I can always find you—" Herc paused, then looked pained, then smiled sadly.  "Sorry."

"What were you about to say?" Stacker questioned; now that Herc was calm, maybe he could talk to him, even if it was about the strange world that he could only see in his mind.

"…I can always find you in the drift." Herc answered, looking wary.

"What’s the drift?" Stacker questioned, gently squeezing his husband’s hand, offering a rare, small, encouraging smile.

"It’s nonsense, that’s what."

"Tell me about it."

Herc stared at him for a long moment before smiling a little. “Fine, fine.  Well…”

As Herc began to talk, Stacker thought he saw some of the life come back into his eyes.  He saw his husband’s shoulders relax, saw some of the weariness seep out of him.  If learning about the world that had trapped Herc’s mind helped heal him, then he would learn about it.

**Author's Note:**

> http://vitious.tumblr.com


End file.
